


of bubble butts and statuesque gods

by saltydorkling



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bottom Tony Stark, M/M, Movie Nights, Reposted Work, Steve can't catch a break, Tony-centric, and tony is the man with the ass, everyone lives in the tower, loki is an ass man, loki is the god of jiggly rumps, this is a throwback to 2012 y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 10:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20308087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltydorkling/pseuds/saltydorkling
Summary: Each Avenger had their own version of how Loki came to reside in the Avenger’s Tower—Steve was fond of embarking on a rambling spiel of redemption and triumph in the face of adversity, while Clint and Nat were of the mind that he just wanted to avoid daddy’s belt. Bruce just chalked it up with a mumble of ‘bag of cats,’ and Thor expounded the virtues of fraternal love and devotion.Tony, on the other hand, enjoyed teasingly betting dimes to donuts that it was all because of his fabulous ass.And he was completely right.this is a repost of a fic from my older account that was deleted





	of bubble butts and statuesque gods

**Author's Note:**

> heyo, so as a head's up, if this sounds familiar -- it is! it was posted years and years ago and deleted when i nuked my ao3 account into orbit. but now it's back! yay! i'll be posting more of my older works in the following weeks :)

* * *

Each Avenger had their own version of how Loki came to reside in the Avenger’s Tower—Steve was fond of embarking on a rambling spiel of redemption and triumph in the face of adversity, while Clint and Nat were of the mind that he just wanted to avoid daddy’s belt. Bruce just chalked it up with a mumble of ‘bag of cats,’ and Thor expounded the virtues of fraternal love and devotion.

Tony, on the other hand, enjoyed teasingly betting dimes to donuts that it was all because of his fabulous ass.

And he was completely right.

Loki was an unapologetic ass man—he loved everything about the warm, supple roundness of a good rear, loved the twin mounds of fleshy attention-getters. He adored ass, craved it, and had even been known to write odes to the glory of a well-shaped rump to recite with cackling glee to the embarrassment of the Asgardian Court. And Tony’s, by far, was the best Loki had seen in centuries, hands down. A perfect bubble butt that was just the right size for a nice handful, swaying back and forth as the man sauntered about, sucking the air out of whatever room he happened to be in at the time.

And because he was Loki, God of Jiggly Rumps, he decided that he was going to ‘tap that,’ as Midgardians were wont to say.

* * *

_Goddammit!_

Tony scrambled for purchase against the counter, trying to brace his weight on a wrist with his other hand flailed blindly above his head. For a fraction of a second, his fingertips brushed against the label of the can, only to push it farther back into the cabinet.

He huffed and repositioned, pressing his pelvis against the counter and leaning forward. It had the unfortunately effect of pushing his ass out like some gold-digger at a charity ball, but his fingers once more found the can and scraped against it futilely.

Tony _could _go get a stool like some plebeian, but he would much rather have someone else do his dirty work.

Someone tall, dark, and handsome, his mind supplied as Loki walked into the adjacent dining area, nose buried in a book.

“Looooki!” Tony crowed, “Can you gimme a haaand?”

Loki glanced over at Tony and stopped dead, sparkling emerald eyes blazing a trail over his stretched body, with special attention paid to his outthrust hips. Tony’s body was a long line of sinuous, flowing muscle, and each little bounce Tony did to try to reach this target sent a wave of motion over his plump ass and straight to Loki’s cock. All Loki would have to do would be to bend Tony all the way over the counter and tear off those wretchedly tight jeans, and that ass would be _his—_

Loki cleared his throat. “What do you need, Stark?” He motioned up into the cabinet.

“The canned tomatoes,” Tony grumbled. “It’s my turn to cook tonight—god knows why—and Rogers _always __—_ oh, hey…”

Loki had plastered himself against Tony’s back, and looped one hand around the short man’s torso to brace him. His long slender fingers were only just grazing the waistband of Tony’s jeans. Slowly, so Tony could feel every muscle move, every tendon flow, Loki reached up. His hand lightly touched the back of Tony’s before Loki moved farther to grab the can and bring it back down for his inspection.

“This one?” He murmured into the man’s ear, his cheek brushing against the outer shell. Loki could feel Tony’s breathing quicken, could see the pulse leaping in his throat, and it would be the simplest thing for him to loll out his tongue, pressing it against the artery to taste the sweat and arousal on Tony’s golden skin. The simplest thing to have him over the counter…

“Yeah,” Tony panted, “Yeah, that’s it, thanks.”

Quick as a snake, Loki disengaged and continued back into the dining room, grabbing his book off the table as he went, whistling a jaunty tune that wouldn’t have been out of place at a Renaissance Faire. Just before he rounded the corner, Loki threw out over his shoulder with a cheshire smirk: “**_Do _**call on me if you require anymore assistance, Stark.”

It wouldn’t do to make things too easy; Loki always did enjoy a good chase.

* * *

Tony dumped the tomatoes juice and all into the skillet over lumps over partially frozen chicken and badly chopped vegetables. He was following a recipe Steve had left out for something called ‘Chicken Cacciatore,’ which he could barely _pronounce__,_ let alone cook.

He might have been able to pay a little more attention if he weren’t still going over the incident that occurred with Loki a scant five minutes ago.

A very _enlightening _incident, to say the least.

He wondered if Loki had a ‘helpless’ kink, or if was just the ‘ass out’ part of the equation. Hey, Tony Stark was nothing if not a scientist, and who loves testing out hypotheses more? Not interns, that’s for sure. Tony frowned—when was the last time he had an intern? Why was he even thinking about that? He had a seduction to plan—even better, he had a seduction to mix with _science__,_ which also happened to involve an astoundingly attractive god, and yeah, Tony was totally down to get freaky with a deity. With that in mind, Tony happily went about butchering the meal badly enough to make Gordan Ramsey cry and throw in the towel.

* * *

Dinner was _okay._

* * *

Over the course of a week, Tony attempted to test his theories objectively, but found doing so incredibly difficult. He quite enjoyed the feeling of Loki pressing himself back his back, the hefty weight of a burgeoning erection molding against the cleft of his ass, and the view—god!—the view of Loki leaning over him with a damn kissable smirk was intoxicating. The image of Loki looming over him, stretching out his toned arms to pin Tony’s hands above his head, yeah, that was quickly becoming ‘happy Tony time’ fodder.

* * *

Steve was starting to get a little worried about Tony—the snarky genius was finding himself in all sorts of trouble with various tools and other implements placed high out of his reach. It stank of bullying to him, and Captain America didn’t tolerate bullying, so he decided to investigate these going ons for any sign of foul play.

Not two days later, Steve stumbled upon Tony struggling again to reach a file folder placed in the exact center of one of the Avenger’s round meeting tables. The poor man was bent near in half trying to reach the file, fingers scratching against the metal surface and leaving little smudged prints.

“Hey, Tony, do you need—?”

“That will not be necessary, Mister Rogers,” A pleasant but cool voice broke in. Steve turned to see Loki standing in the doorway, arms folded, giving him a dead-eyed look completely at odds with his tone. “I will be perfectly happy to assist Mister Stark.” He smiled a strange smile that showed all his teeth and stepped between Steve and Tony in an almost possessive manner.

Steve watched, nonplussed, as Loki sauntered over to Tony and spread himself out over the smaller man’s body, his hand following the line of outstretched arm, gently clasping the fingers before continuing on to grasp the folder and drag it into Tony’s reach. The tiny shiver Tony gave was strange, as was Loki’s whole ‘planting himself over Tony like a blanket’ thing, but hey—Thor was pretty touchy-feely, too.

Maybe it was just an Asgardian thing.

Nevertheless, Steve felt proud of how well Loki was fitting to the team life, and he made sure to tell the man so as he left the room. Loki just smirked and muttered a ‘you have no idea,’ and left Steve and Tony alone.

Steve glanced back at Tony before exiting himself to place an order through Jarvis—he had an idea that might help Tony, a grabbing device he’d seen public service workers using to clean up trash from the streets without bending over.

In deference to Tony’s showmanship style, Steve custom ordered one painted in hotrod red and gold.

* * *

Loki threw the foul thing away before Tony saw it. It wouldn’t do for the man to get ideas about replacing him, after all.

* * *

Another day, another fight in the Avenger’s kitchen.

“I don’t know why we need two guys with ornithological names!” Clint grumbled, spearing his bacon with his fork even though he _knew _Natasha could not stand people eating in the kitchen—they had a dining room for a reason!

“At least my name’s more appropriate,” Sam retorted, “I fly!”

Clint waved his fork, sending little bits of bacon and egg everywhere. “Hawkeye! I shoot! It’s a play on words!”

“Then call yourself Legolas—”

Natasha tuned the two idiots out, a useful trick she picked up while undercovering as a daycare worker. Instead, she turned her attention to something much more interesting: Loki, who had just slunk into the overcrowded kitchen and was surveying the room with an intense look. His eyes darted everywhere before settling on Tony with a calculating manner, and though he were weighing his options.

Loki _‘casually’ _meandered his way over to Tony, who was standing a small distance away from the counter, watching the whole scene with shoulders shaking in laughter. Loki slid into the tight space between Tony and the counter with a muttered apology, an action which pressed his groin directly against the other man’s backside, despite there having been plenty of room to get around elsewhere.

Natasha facepalmed when Tony inhaled sharply and pushed his hips back against Loki’s. She didn’t get paid enough to put up with this high school level of flirting.

* * *

“Wooo! Go, team!” Clint enthused, offering high fives to the other exhausted, slime covered Avengers. He was left hanging.

Loki, however, looked speculative. He swept away the slime on his armor with an idle roll of his shoulders. “What is the meaning of that?” He asked, gesturing to Clint’s lonely and still raised hand.

“It’s called a high-five,” Clint grumbled, “If someone would like to help demonstrate…” Natasha rolled her eyes and gave him the most lackadaisical high-five ever delivered. Clint made a face at her that spoke volumes about his displeasure. She remained unmoved.

“How odd,” the mischievous god mused, “I have seen you Midgardians celebrate in a different fashion. What a confusing lot you are.” There was a gleam in his eyes that warned of some scheme on the horizon, but most of the Avengers were too busy desliming themselves to notice.

“What’s that?” Tony asked, taking the bait. He had just shucked off his filthy armor, leaving him in his undersuit, and was the most pristine one in the room along with Loki.

Loki responded by laying a firm smack on Tony’s ass, elicited a surprised burst of laughter from the man. “That’s, uh, that’s mostly for sporting events, Lo,” Tony chortled.

“Ah, apologies,” Loki said smoothly, though his hand didn’t quite left the comforting heart-shaped warmth, nor did he look particularly sorry. “How embarrassing. Perhaps, though, you and I should go to the kitchen and place an order for our brave comrades?”

“Oh, god yes,” Sam moaned. “Hamburgers!”

“No, pizza!”

“I want some lasagne…”

“Well, luckily for all of you,” Tony raised his voice to carry over the din, “I just happen to be a billionaire and can afford to pay a dozen delivery fees. C’mon, let’s go get that stuff called in…” It wasn’t necessary for them to be in the kitchen—Tony could have Jarvis order from everywhere in the house, but that slime was starting to smell.

Plus Loki’s hand felt really, _really _good where it was.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Steve and jerked his head toward to two retreat figures. He shrugged. “I figure it’s an Asgardian thing.”

Falcon shook off his wings and nodded. That made sense.

* * *

Movie night at the Avengers Tower was always a strange and harrowing affair; it was no easy thing to get eight squabbling adults to decide what movie to watch, and things often got more than a little catty. Nevertheless, they managed, for once, to get a movie picked out with minimal bloodshed, next to no crying, and Loki only threatened to throw someone out of a window once.

All in all, one of the better movie nights.

And though they started the film with everyone in a proper upright position on various chairs, loveseats, and couches, about halfway through the Avengers just seemed to bonelessly melt into limpid piles draped everywhere; Natasha was upside down in an armchair, Steve and Thor were wide-eyed on the floor like children, Bruce was bundled in a nest of blankets with strategic piles of popcorn placed within tongue’s reach, and Clint and Sam were chilling together in a pillow fort Tony christened Fort Birdbrain.

Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, indeed—something about the dull, flickering lights of a movie and the buttery scent of popcorn had backpedaled their ages to roughly eight.

The exception being Tony and Loki, who despite having started the night on opposite ends of the room, had gravitated toward each other onto the same couch until the pair were reclining together, and Tony was firmly held down on Loki’s chest.

The steady beating of Loki’s heart and the mind-numbing stupidity of the sci-fi flick lulled Tony to sleep well before the end of the movie. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything; besides, the murderous look on Loki’s face spelled death for any unfortunate soul who dared try to move or wake the man.

* * *

Loki found he quite enjoyed the feeling of the smaller man curled under him—something about enveloping Tony’s hard, compact form was just… enticing. Addicting. The way he squirmed under him, shifting his lithesome body against Loki’s and grinding his round backside against his crotch was…

Well, it was the reason Loki was standing in the kitchen at three in the morning with a throbbing hard on, staring longingly at the counter and remembering Tony braced against it, except, in his mind’s eye, Tony had his legs invitingly parted, his mouth falling open in short pants, and his hips bucking against the counter, searching for that single spark of friction to ignite the wildfire…

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?”

Loki swore violently—he had been living alone for far too long, and a scant few months with the Avengers wasn’t enough to smother old habits.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tony yawned, “Didn’t mean to startle ya.” He slid past Loki, bleary, but still managing to make gooey eyes at the coffee machine. He grumbled, however, to see the empty coffee filter package.

Loki’s eyes flickered to the fresh package high in the cabinet, conveniently just out of reach, and Tony knew that, he _knew it__,_ the only point to him even bothering to reach for it was—

“Mmm, Loooki…” Tony’s voice came out as a guttural sigh, hoarse being awake for who-knows-how-long.

Loki just _**snapped. **_He molded himself against Tony, cock burning like a brand as it pressed into the man’s lower back—and Loki didn’t even keep up the pretense of reaching for anything anymore, no, his arms were wrapping around Tony’s torso, fingers twisting up his thin cotton shirt and Tony fell back against Loki, leaning on him fully, a breathy little laugh bubbling out.

“Oh, _finally! _” Tony moaned, looping his arms behind Loki’s head and pulling his face down to bury it in his shoulder. Loki got the hint and began to nip and suck on the flesh, his warm wet tongue tracing over the pulse point and his teeth leaving little indents to mark his territory.

Loki teased his way up to Tony’s ear before whispering hotly, “I wonder if you are golden all over, Stark…” One of his slender fingers just barely dipped into the waistband of Tony’s sleeping pants.

And Tony moaned again, because it was three in the morning and the man that has been all but fucking him for months now was actually offering to _finally get on with it__,_ and the heavy erection pressed against him was definitely real, not some insomnia-and-coffee-induced dream.

Life was pretty good, except for one thing—

“Team!” Tony gasped, arching his back against Loki and squirming his ass, making Loki growl and slam his hips forward into Tony’s. “Gotta—bed. Now.”

Loki gave no indication that he heard, the rumble still building low in his throat, hips grinding against him in an erotic dance that left Tony breathless and _almost _willing to let Loki just bend him over the counter and have him for everyone to see.

“Bed!”

There was a bizarre feeling of vertigo, a sudden lurching movement combined with tight pressure squeezing his chest and constricting his lungs, and blood rushing to pound in his ears before everything just stopped. He found himself in a dimly lit room that might be Loki’s bedroom, might be a guest room, hell, could even be the Queen of England’s royal chambers, Tony didn’t care—it had a bed and a lock on the door, and that was all that mattered.

“Strip,” The order came like the crack of a whip, Loki’s voice pleasure-shot and rough. Though Tony remained standing, Loki had fallen back onto the bed and was propping himself up on his elbows.

Tony smirked and obliged, running a hand under the hem of his shirt, slowly lifting it inch by inch, exposing bare scraps of tanned skin. Pubis, hips, abs—all fell prey to Loki’s hungry, open-mouth stare, until the shirt was finally lifted up and off his shoulders, exposing his torso completely for Loki’s approval.

And judging from the dark wet patch staining the fabric of Loki’s pants, he approved very much so.

Tony then hooked his thumbs under the waistband, rubbing them back and forth a few times over the elastic, as though he were looking for the best place to grip to remove his pants completely.

Loki licked his lips. “Turn, Stark.” He punctuated this with a languid twirl of his long finger, and Tony laughed. Loki wanted to see? Let him. Tony spun a slow half circle and slid his thin cotton pants off completely, letting the fabric pool to the floor where he kicked it out of the way.

Loki gave a strangled whimper at the sight, and Tony smirked. All those hours doing workouts that could’ve come straight from an 80’s fitness tape to tone up his butt were completely worth it to hear that ragged sound of a man coming undone.

Loki reached a trembling hand out to cup that gorgeous buttocks, and his heart leapt into throat to see that yes, it was a perfect handful, the weight resting warm against his palms. He squeezed, marveling at the flesh yielding to his demanding touch.

“And you?” Tony murmured, turning about and knocking Loki’s hand away before crawling on top of his prone form. Loki exhaled sharply and there was a wash of pale green light that mingled nicely with the light from the arc reactor, and Loki was utterly naked. “Neat trick,” Tony allowed, and dipped his hips to brush the heads of their cocks together. “Handy.”

Loki just smirked, a cutting and cat-like thing that reminded Tony of that day months ago in the kitchen, before drawing the smaller man up to capture his lips in a fierce kiss. It was a war of tongues and teeth and lips, of passion that tasted like the dark, stirring arousal caught in their bellies.

With a small grunt, Loki rolled them over, pinning Tony under him and fulfilling a fantasy the man had had since Loki first arrived fresh off the Bifrost and announced he was moving in with the Avengers. It would be completely perfect if—

Tony raised his arms above his head, the plea more in his eyes, because his mouth was still too proud to voice it, but Loki understood and complied, clasping both of Tony’s wrists in one large hand, leaving the other free to continue a downward track over Tony’s arm, across his chest—pausing momentarily to tweak a nipple—and going down, down—

“Lube?” The man groaned against Loki’s lips.

“Magic,” Loki chided with a haughty wink.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, forgive me if I didn’t know about your magical lube fingers— _oh god! _”

Said magical lube fingers had wrapped themselves around his thickness, pumping in an infuriatingly slow rhythm that had Tony lifting his hips for more. The angle was somewhat awkward, but as far as Tony was concerned it was perfect, just for having Loki tower over him like that. After a few steady pumps, the fingers again began a downward path, curling over his tightened sac and giving it a proprietary roll, and gliding down his perineum before coming to rest pressed lightly to his furled hole.

Tony keened and pressed his hips upwards. “Loki!” He demanded, struggling slightly against the god’s grip in his attempt to get one of those fingers _in him ._

Loki just laughed, swirling the finger casually and revelling in Tony’s squirms. “What’s the _magic_ word?” He teased as he just barely dipped the tip in.

“You’re an evil bastard?” Tony gasped, “No, no, how about _fuck me right now or I’m calling this off_?”

Loki laughed again and slipped the finger in to the second knuckle, twisting it to coat the slippery substance over Tony’s inner walls. “I highly doubt that,” he murmured, low and sweet, emerald eyes glittering at him from under dark lashes. “You want this as much as I, my Stark.”

Tony groaned.

But for all of Loki’s grandiose showboating, he actually prepped Tony quickly and efficiently—he was just as eager to get into that ass as Tony was for him to be in. When Loki pulled his fingers away, Tony wrapped his leg around Loki’s pelvis and lifted his hips impatiently for the god to get a good handhold.

“_Now _are we ready?”

Loki’s response was to press the head of his cock into him, the steady and stretching pressure completely cutting off Tony’s higher brain function. Nothing existed anymore but the caveman in his head hooting at him to _get fucked_ already, and Tony eagerly raised his hips once more to ease Loki’s passage.

It was glorious, it was electric, and every one of Loki’s panting thrusts seemed to pour molten lava over his cock, and it’s just perfect—the hard line of Loki’s sweat covered body looming over him, the fluidity of the muscles gliding under his skin, and the tense wanting carved into Loki’s face. Tony wished for a moment that he could touch, trace those beads of salty sweat with his fingers, dig his nails into Loki’s solid back to spur him on, but there will time for that later, time for a slow exploration with tongues and fingers and kisses—this was exactly as it was meant to be; demanding and desperate.

Loki’s grip on Tony’s hips gave him the perfect position to pummel Tony’s prostate, each thrust timed to send waves of glowing pulses over Tony’s nerves, whiting out his vision and sparking a chain reaction that firebombed down Tony’s spine. This, combined with the frottage against Loki’s stomach, sent Tony spiraling down the pit of his orgasm, his seed spurting between their slick bodies, and his hot walls clenching down on Loki, who valiantly struggled against his own ecstasy, not ready yet to leave his conquest, but biology won out over psychology, and Loki finished not far behind.

They stayed pressed together for a long moment, chests heaving, air mingling—Loki released Tony’s hands and they flew to brush the long hair from Loki’s brow and pressed him down for another kiss. It was quieter, simpler, and frequently broken by a need to recover oxygen lost during their coupling, but their lips always seemed to find their way back to each other.

Loki pulled out with a groan and rolled onto his back, sweat still glimmering on his chest, and Tony wiggled onto his side and into the crux of Loki’s arms.

“That was pretty awesome,” Tony admitted, a content sigh pulling his eyes closed, even though Loki’s legs were still hanging off the bed and Tony was curled up into a ball.

“It was adequate,” Loki allowed with a teasing drawl.

Tony shot up with an offended squeak. “_Adequate?! _”

Loki laughed and swatted Tony on the backside, enjoyed the waves of jiggles that caused. “I will, of course, have to sample again before I can give a better review.”

Tony huffed and squirmed his body up farther onto the bed like a caterpillar. “Gimme fifteen minutes,” he mumbled. “Where are we, anyway?”

Loki looked around the bedroom, brow furrowed. “I have absolutely no idea.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> anyway, i'm saltydorkling on tumblr, too


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